Bridgette

 

Bridgette leaned against the wall of the shower as the hot water poured over her. She was still trying to process everything Kyle had told her over the past few hours. Her head was throbbing from the effort. She’d decided a shower would give her some time away from him and a chance to put everything aside for just a few moments.

 

Except her mind didn’t seem capable of breaking out of the dizzying circles it was spinning in.

 

A drug deal. He’d seen a bad drug deal and had to skip town so she wouldn’t get caught up with the kingpin who was convinced Kyle knew something. It was a ridiculous story, something straight from a bad drama series. That was the kind of shit that happened in the movies, not in real life, not to people like her. Maybe the son-of-a-bitch was lying to cover up his own mistakes.

 

Then again, outright lies had never been Kyle’s style. In a lot of ways he was a simple, straightforward guy. He’d never fabricated anything, never exaggerated to her—not that she could recall, at least. He wasn’t the type to brag. If he lied at all, it was a lie of omission, and usually not even that.

 

Before, when he’d started down a questionable path and she’d pressed for details on what he was involved in, he’d just gone tight-lipped and refused to say a word on the matter. Her impression of the new Kyle—of Falcon—was that that part of him hadn’t changed.

 

So if she did believe him, what did that mean for her feelings now? She’d let herself hate him for years. Hell, on the hardest nights when the fridge was nearly empty and her meager payday was still too far away, she’d even indulged in a few violent fantasies.

 

She’d spent the better part of six years telling herself he was responsible for every bit of misery, every week of long hours and little sleep, every little thing she wanted to buy her daughter but couldn’t.

 

But how could she blame him if what he’d told her was true? He’d only wanted to keep her out of Martin’s clutches. From the sound of it, it hadn’t been easy on him. She’d never doubted for a second how he felt about her until that day he disappeared. He didn’t even look at other women. Maybe it hadn’t been cold feet or a reckless impulse or what she’d always worried about most— another girl. Maybe it really had been a difficult decision that he’d made, and one that he’d suffered from as much as her.

 

She rested her head against the cool tiles for a moment and closed her eyes. There was no sense in trying to come to a conclusion now, she decided. It would take time. If everything he’d told her was true and not some gigantic lie intended to scare her back into his arms, she’d see that soon enough. She’d have plenty of time to judge him, especially if he wanted her to stay with him for the next few days.

 

She turned the shower off and wrapped herself in the oversized bath towel she’d found in the cupboard. The cold air against her skin raised a wake of goose pimples along her arms. She shivered and wrapped the towel more tightly around her, searching for her pajamas.

 

Shit. She’d left them in her bag.

 

She stepped out into the hall, trying to figure out where Kyle would have set it.

 

Just as she started moving down the hall to search for her clothes, Kyle stepped out of the kitchen. When he saw her, he froze.

 

She could feel his gaze lingering on her curves. The intensity of his stare coupled with the lust shining in his eyes brought a flush to her bare skin. She suddenly felt conscious of how exposed she was, of how scandalous she must look standing before him with nothing but a bath towel around her slender frame, her hair still mussed and damp from the shower.

 

Not that he hadn’t seen her body before. Maybe it was that thought, bolstered by the weight of all the memories of their past encounters that caused a trickle of warm arousal to spread through her. She could feel her nipples hardening against the slightly rough texture of the towel under his gaze.

 

“Fuck,” he uttered, and in the reverent tone he used, it sounded to her ears like the highest of compliments.

 

“Where’d you put my bag?” she mumbled, but the words got lost in her mouth. She found her own eyes tracing the chiseled abs beneath his t-shirt, trailing down to his groin and the bulge in his jeans. She wanted to run her hands down his front and see for herself how much he’d changed in the last six years. She wanted to feel how his form had filled out.

 

Kyle sauntered forward, his eyes still roving up and down her body appreciatively. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

 

She continued to stare at him, spellbound, as he leaned down to meet her mouth. She didn’t even think to fight the reflex to meet his lips. It was like letting go and giving in to gravity.

 

Like the other day, Kyle kissed her with authority. He conquered her mouth, claiming it with soft, gentle strokes of his tongue, before slipping down and grazing her lower lip with the tips of his teeth.

 

This time, though, she didn’t stand there like a deer in the headlights. She kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, pushing back into his mouth to explore him, too. He tasted of smoke and beer, and something rich and musky and exquisite she couldn’t quite place.

 

As they kissed, her arms wrapped up firmly around his neck, and his large hands slid down her lower back, resting on her ass. They fell into each other smoothly and effortlessly, like the whole thing had been choreographed.

 

Bridgette pressed herself against the front of him, reveling in the delicious warmth and friction of their bodies coming together.

 

Kyle drew back from her lips long enough to utter, “I want you.”

 

She answered him by slipping her hands down to the hem of his shirt and lifting it up, letting the towel pool at her feet in the process. Kyle stripped his shirt off and froze again when he found himself face to face with her naked body, still damp from the shower.

 

He brushed his hands over her breasts, hovering over them for a moment before trailing his hands lightly down her sensitive sides. She shuddered in pleasure at the sensation. His hands came to rest on her hips, his fingers digging into her, and he leaned back in to catch her lips in another heady kiss.

 

As they kissed, Bridgette kneaded his thick shoulders in her palms. She raked her nails down lightly over his bulging pecs, down his rock-hard abs, before reaching his belt buckle. She began working swiftly to undo it, and in seconds she was dragging his jeans down over his muscled legs, releasing his lips so she could dip down far enough.

 

Kyle surprised her by catching her behind her knees and back and lifting her up, cradling her against his chest easily. He kicked out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers, and carried her into the bedroom where he dropped her a little carelessly onto the bed.

 

Bridgette’s whole body was on fire. She could feel her desire pooling between her legs. She ached for his touch.

 

God, she hadn’t been this aroused in years. And no one had ever brought out this same molten fire in her; there had been little sparks here and there, but this feeling was all-consuming. She just wanted to drown in it without thinking—only feeling.

 

Kyle was on top of her in seconds, straddling her midriff, the fabric of his boxer shorts tickling the sensitive skin just below her belly button. He trapped her wrists in his hands and held them pinned at her sides, a predatory grin on his lips.

 

“You feel so damn good under me,” he groaned, grinding his erection against her stomach.

 

She writhed, half in pleasure and half in need, trying to dislodge her hands so she could touch him.

 

Kyle held her pinned, though. He’d always had a dominant streak in him, and she didn’t mind that so much. But he had the self-control to go agonizingly slow, and while she couldn’t argue with the end results, the wait was an exquisite kind of hell.

 

His warm mouth slid down the most sensitive part of her neck to her collarbone. He sucked and nibbled at her for a few seconds as she squirmed, bucking her hips a little in hopes of meeting his groin and getting a little relief from the friction. But he had her positioned so she could only lay there as he worked his way down her body, lavishing attention on each sensitive patch of skin.

 

He dipped his head to her breasts next. He caught her right nipple between his teeth, nipping just hard enough to cause a little delicious pain, but not enough to break the skin. He eased the pressure immediately and swirled his tongue over the sensitive, erect nub. The sensation was enough to cause a shiver to run down her spine. He repeated the treatment for the left. She bucked beneath him as his teeth grazed over her areola.

 

“Shit, Kyle,” she moaned, “stop teasing me.”

 

He laughed. She felt the deep vibrations through her chest as he planted kisses all the way down to her navel. “You need something, baby?” he asked her huskily in between kisses. “Want me to speed things up a bit?”

 

He shifted smoothly, moving a knee back between her legs so she couldn’t close them. He released her left wrist and slipped a hand down to her slit with astonishing ease. She moaned in pleasure as his hand traced down her wet folds, teasing the puffy lips of her labia. She tried to grind against the movements of his hand, to get him to rub her sensitive nub and send her over the top into ecstasy, but he wouldn’t let her dictate the pace.

 

Kyle pushed a finger inside of her. She clenched around the invading digit, trying to pull him in deeper. He obliged, pushing in and out steadily, generating a maddening friction that stoked the fire in her to a fever pitch. He increased the tempo, slipping a second finger into her.

 

She was so close to coming, to hitting that white-hot peak of ecstasy. She just needed a little more. She slipped her free hand down to rub her clit, but Kyle stopped her. She felt his fingers pull out of her, and the sense of emptiness in their absence was almost painful.

 

She felt him shift on top of her, repositioning his head so it was between her legs. The sight of his thick black locks between her thighs sent a spike of desire coursing through her. She twisted her hands in the sheets and flexed the muscles in her legs as she braced herself.

 

He swiped his tongue along the entrance to her slit. She arched against him, forcing her legs wider in an automatic response. He lapped at her in long, slow strokes, tracing her folds with the tip of his tongue and circling around her clit without actually touching it.

 

She was climbing higher and higher, past the point that she thought she should have climaxed. She was vaguely aware of her hips pumping against him reflexively. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, that she would burst at the seams if he continued on any longer, his mouth slid to her clit, enveloping fully. He sucked hard, and that was it for her.

 

She came, dislodging from everything but the waves of ecstasy that washed through her.

 

He pressed kisses against the inside of her thighs as she drifted back down, rocked by pleasurable aftershocks as her orgasm subsided.

 

As the carnal need subsided, she was left to face the flood of thoughts that she’d pushed away in the moment. What was she doing? He hadn’t been back in town for two full days and already she was crawling back into his bed, ready to let him screw her again?

 

She didn’t even know if she believed him yet. Hell, she wanted to. She wanted to just give into this and let the chips fall where they may, but she didn’t have that luxury. She didn’t want some one-night stand with her ex, and she sure as hell didn’t need to start anything with her daughter’s estranged father. Especially not one who claimed to have gotten under the skin of some local drug lord.

 

“Kyle,” she murmured, pushing herself up and dragging the sheet over her exposed body. “Kyle, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have started.”

 

Kyle looked pissed. He pushed himself back up so the bulk of his body overshadowed her. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t? You just did. Don’t you fucking tell me you didn’t like that.”

 

“Shit, you don’t get it,” she snapped, dragging herself out of the bed and bringing the sheet with her. She wasn’t letting him keep the upper hand in this. “You think things are simple? That if we’re good in bed together, we’re good together? How many goddamn times do I have to tell you I have a kid now? I have a life. And I want to believe you, I really do, but I’ve got your word and nothing else right now. You could fuck me tonight and be gone tomorrow, and I’m not going to put myself through that, not again.”

 

Kyle jumped out of the bed, chest heaving. She could make out a few veins bulging in his neck. “I told you what happened,” he snarled, advancing a few steps toward her. “I had to leave then. But I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

 

Bridgette just clutched the sheet around her more firmly. She was going to stand her ground. “I want to believe you. But I can’t just think about what I want right now. If I get involved with someone, I have to know he’s going to be good for my baby girl. Best case scenario, you’re tangling with a drug lord who would’ve used me to get to you. I don’t want my daughter on his short list, too.”

 

Kyle stayed tense for a moment, looking for all the world like he was fighting to stay angry. But after a few seconds the tension faded, giving way to grudging acceptance.

 

Protecting loved ones—that was a language Bridgette knew he spoke.

 

He kept advancing, though now there was no intense energy in his movements. When he stood just before her, he placed both hands on her face and held her there. He didn’t hold her tenderly; his palms crushed against her face with restrained strength—not painful but solid enough for her to know she wasn’t going anywhere. To feel like he wasn’t going anywhere either.

 

The thought brought with it an unexpected swell of tenderness. God, how long had it been since she’d been able to lean on anyone else like this, even for a second? She’d been fighting so hard to stand on her own two feet for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone prop her up. She felt the traces of tears gathering in her eyes—a bittersweet mixture of gratefulness for his strength now and grief for the years they’d spent apart.

 

“I get it,” he told her in a low voice. “You need time. Space. I’ll keep back as much as I can. But I am going to prove to you, Bridge, beyond the fucking shadow of a doubt, that I can keep you safe, that you can trust me.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her forehead, then let her go.

 

Bridgette drew a trembling breath into her lungs. She lifted her arm to her eyes to swipe away all traces of her tears. “I’m going to go take another shower.”

 

Kyle grinned crookedly at that. “I thought you might need one,” he teased her, his suddenly lewd gaze dropping to the apex of her thighs.

 

She smacked him in the shoulder and turned quickly to hide the flush that rose to her cheeks.

 

She really didn’t want to stop this, she realized. She wanted to turn right around and pick up where they’d left off.

 

Why did doing the right thing have to be so hard?